Kill Shiro - Volume 1
by Maritiarty
Summary: "Do you find me sadistic?" The boy flinched every time the cloth wiped the blood from his bruised face. He might of been flinching from the pure pain, or just the fact that he was being touched by the man at all, even if indirectly. "No blue at this moment, this is me at my most masochistic."
1. 2

The AU is based on the movie "KILL BILL".

It is beautiful and you really should watch it before reading this.

* * *

 **"Revenge is a dish best served cold."**

\- Old Klingon Proverb -

 _Labored breathing echoed throughout the silent church. The sound of foot steps seemed to make the breathing race faster as each step came closer and closer._

 _"Do you find me sadistic?"_

 _A skinny boy with caramel brown skin decorated with a dozen brown freckles, deep blue eyes, and shaggy brown haired caked with blood laid on the wooden floors looking up at his attacker with rage-filled eyes. He had just taken a severe spaghetti-western-style gang beating. His face was bloody, beaten up, and torn. A hand reach towards his face, the pale milky skin showing a striking contrast to the boys dark bloody skin. In the man's hand is a handkerchief with the name "SHIRO" sewn in the corner, he began to wipe the blood from the boy's face tenderly._

 _The boy flinched every time the cloth wiped the blood from his bruised face. He might have been flinching from pure pain, or just the fact that he was being touched by the man at all, even if indirectly._

 _"I bet I could fry an egg on your head about now, if I wanted to." The man continued on, still wiping the blood off._

 _"No blue, I'd like to believe, even now, you're aware enough to know there isn't a trace of sadism in my actions... Okay - Maybe towards these other jokers - but not you."_

 _Looking down at the boy on the floor showed the giant swell of his stomach. He was obviously very pregnant. For most people didn't know that the boy had been born a woman, but later decided he was a man. He wore a white wedding dress, though now stained with blood. The man with the handkerchief was bent down over him. Four others in black suits were standing around them, two were male, two were female. Four dead bodies also laid in their own blood around them, and the wedding chapel had been redecorated with blood, death and gunfire._

 _"No blue at this moment, this is me at my most masochistic."_

 _The sound of a gun cocking made the bride's eyes widen in pure terror and rage he finally opened his mouth and spoke._

 _"Shiro...it's your baby-"_

 _The gun went off and the bride received a bullet in the side of his head._

* * *

 **The city of PASADENA, CALIFORNIA**

The Boy was sitting in a parked pickup truck. His eyes focused on a very homey three-bedroom house in the affluent suburb of Pasadena, California. A purple Dodge Neon sat parked in the driveway. A tricycle, a big wheel, and a few toys sprinkled the grass on the front yard. A mailbox with the name "The BELLS" on it sat out in front of the lawn. The sound of an ice cream truck bells somewhere nearby.

The Bride opened the truck door, slamming it close as he got out. He walked straight for the door to the home, his face blank and devoid of emotion. He quickly pressed a finger against the doorbell.

The front door opened and an attractive black housewife with long silver hair tied in a tight ponytail, bright blue eyes, and the same age as the bride stood in the doorway. The Housewife's face showed immediate recognition of the brunette on her doorstep.

 _He gasps in pain as he is repeatedly kicked and thrown and punched, all the while protecting his vulnerable stomach. A black woman punches him in the face...it's the housewife, five years earlier._

The Cuban boy shot forward and punched the woman straight in the face, forcing her back into her home. The Cuban sent out a kick that was quickly blocked by the housewife, but not the smack the came next. The boy ran towards her to grab only to be caught and swung around, flying towards a painting and landing on a bookshelf before falling to the floor. The woman sent down a powerful kick to the Boy's head, but he blocked it and quickly kicked the woman right between her legs. It still hurt when it happened to a woman anyways. When she bent over in pain, another kick went straight to her face. The woman cried out in pain and flew backwards into the coffee table and shattered the glass and landing on her back.

While down The Housewife quickly picked up a broken piece of wood from the coffee table and smashed it against the Boy's leg when he jumped over the couch to her. He quick shouted in pain and fell to one knee. The Housewife swung again, this time at his head, but he dodged and fell onto his back. The woman swung again but the boy caught it quickly and shoved a foot onto her stomach and kicked her off him. The woman flew forward and flipped over completely on her back. The Cuban raced forward and wrapped an arm around the woman as she started to get up. Effectively cutting off her air supply.

The Boy tightened his grip fiercely and the woman clutched at the arm, choking noisily. The two eventually dropped to the carpet ground filled with broken glass. The woman punched weakly at the tight arm. Out of the corner of her eye, the woman saw one of the fireplace pokers and grasped one desperately. One firm wack against the Boy's head made him cry out and release her. The woman stood shakily and swung out at the boy who grabbed the poker and kicked the housewife into an ornamental iron and tempered-glass bookcase that has framed family photos, display toys, some African art, and a collection of painted commemorative plates depicting the negro experience in the American military.

The Housewife immediately grabbed the bookcase and threw it onto The Boy where the glass shattered and he curled up to protect himself. He growled and pulled himself out of the bookcase as fast as he could and raced after The Housewife into the kitchen, dodging the swift swipes of the butcher knife in her hand. The Boy grabbed a frying pan off the stove and blocked the many swipes aimed at him. The two yelled and screamed at each other as they attacked and blocked relentlessly. The woman finally cut the side of the boy's hand making him yell and drop the pan. He blocked the next strike but was kicked directly in the stomach. He fell back and landing on the dining table, before moving just in time to avoid getting impaled.

The Boy rolled underneath the table and wiped out his hidden knife and stabbed through the table, missing the housewife by a few inches. He kicked the table and forced her to fall to the side with it. The boy jumped over the table and the two stared each other down and stalked each other, each holding a blade, each looking like they knew how to use it, each waiting for the other to make a mistake so they can plunge their blade deep into the other one. Blood and sweat dripped off of their faces as the two were locked in a life or death combat.

The black woman glared and cocked a hand towards the boy, jeering at him.

"Come on _bitch_." The boy growled and flipped his knife expertly in his hands as the two walked back to the living room. The woman kicking away a table leg without looking.

Each jerking with small swipes to the other, eyes filled with hate and anger. Both were then directly in front of the living room window for all outsiders to see.

The the sound of a large vehicle slowing to a stop outside made the pause. A few darting glances checked, but not taking complete attention off the other.

The woman bit her lip and stiffened at the sight of the school bus. The doors opened, revealing a little boy with dark skin, white hair, and a Scooby-Doo lunch box. The housewife's eyes flashed a look of pleading to the eyes of the boy.

He stared at her for a few seconds then said, "Okay."

The two quickly put their weapons behind their backs as the door opened and a tiny voiced called out, "Mommy, I'm home."

The housewife quickly switched to her 'Mommy' voice, "Hey baby, how was school?"

The little boy was flabbergasted at the mess, and the condition of his mother, who looked like she's just been in a bar room brawl.

"Mommy, what happened to you and the T.V. Room?"

"Oh...that good for nothin' dog of yours, got his little ass in the living room and acted a damn fool, that's what happened baby."

"Barney did this?" He said it with the slightest hint of skepticism, then tried to enter the living room.

Her mother quickly held up her hand to stop him.

"Now baby, you can't come in here, there's broken glass all over the floor, and you could cut yourself." The mother's voice was a bit breathless.

The little boy's eyes go to the brunette boy in the living room who she had never seen before, who also looked like he'd been fighting. The Cuban smiled at the confused child. The housewife nodded at him.

"This is a old friend of mommy's I ain't seen in a long time."

"Hi honey, I'm ***(BLEEP)*** , what's your name?"

The shy, suspicious little boy didn't say anything, he just stared at the boy. The mother and Boy wait then she turns to him.

"His name is Alfor."

The boys side-eyed the housewife before smiling at the little boy.

"Alfor. What a interesting name for a little boy. How old are you Alfor?" Alfor still said nothing, only stared.

"Alfor, ***(BLEEP)*** asked you a question." The housewife prodded.

Alfor looked at the boy for a few more seconds before saying, "I'm four."

The boy nodded slightly, "Four years old, aye. You know I once had a little girl. She'd be five now."

The mother looked at the boy with tight eyes before walking over to her son.

"Now baby, me and mommy's friend have some grown-up talk to talk about, so you can go in your room now and leave us alone till I tell you to come out. okay?"

Alfor didn't move, only staring at the boy.

"Alfor." The mother snapped her fingers to get his attention. "In your room. Now."

The little boy slowly walked away and disappeared behind the door of his bedroom. The two adults turned to face each other, masquerade and combat both finished. The mother sighed.

"You want some coffee?"

"...Yeah, sure."

The housewife closed the still open door. The two both moved into the kitchen. The boy re-sheathed his knife, and the housewife put the butcher knife back in the drawer. The boy sat down at the kitchen table, while the woman poured both of them coffee.

"Cream and sugar?" She asked.

"Both, please." He replied.

This Pasadena homemaker's name was Aliane Bell. Her husband was Dr. Lawrence Bell. But back when the two present were acquainted, five years ago, her name was Allura Altea. Her code name, was 'Azemiopinae'...his was 'Black Mamba'.

The two combat artist sat at Allura's kitchen table, sipping coffee in silence.

"So I suppose it's a little late for a apology, huh?" Allura stated more than asking.

"You suppose correctly." The boy said, sipping more.

"Even if I was sincere?"

"Oh. I'm quite positive you're sincere, now."

Allura hissed at the boy across the table furiously but with low volume; "Look bitch, I need to know if you're gonna start anymore shit around my baby boy!"

The boy raised an eyebrow at her, "You can relax, for now. I'm not going to murder you in front of your child."

Allura stared at him, as if searching for any lies, "That's being more rational than Shiro led me to believe you were capable of."

"Well that's a demonstration of Shiro's complete ignorance when it comes to the subject of me, and what I'm thinking, and what I might do. It's mercy, compassion, and forgiveness I lack, not rationality."

He paused for effect, then, "I'll wait for now, but I won't wait for long. I'll allow you to choose a time and place for us to meet again, preferably as far away from Alfor as possible. I could have just HIT you, I didn't, I demand respect for that. Since this is not a HIT, consider it a DUEL. And as two former Deadly Vipers, we will observe Viper rules of honor. One on one - no help - no bushwhackin - no treacherous weapons - one weapon of choice - our skill and our bodies."

" ***(BLEEP)*** "

"- I'm not through telling you. Failure to keep our date, or duplicity of any kind, will result in me putting a xoxo hollow point bullet into the back of your skull from a window of a building across the street from Alfor's elementary school. Now, feel free to respond."

Allura looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Look...I know I fucked you over. I fucked you over bad. I wish to God I hadn't, but I did."

The boy listened to the black woman with a poker face.

"If I could go back in a machine I would, but I can't. All I can tell you is I'm a different person now."

"I don't care."

Allura paused, biting her lip.

"Be that as it may, I know I do not deserve mercy or forgiveness. However, I beseech you for both on behalf of my son-"

"-Bitch, you can stop right there."

The B-word stopped Allura short, almost like a cold-handed slap in the face.

The boy leaned in close to her.

"Just because I have no wish to murder you before the eyes of your son, does not mean parading him around in front of me is going to inspire sympathy. You and I have unfinished business. And not a goddamn fuckin' thing you've done in the subsequent five years - including getting knocked up - is going to change that."

Allura stared at him with wide eyes, "You have every right to wanna get even-"

"- But that's where you're wrong, Allura. I don't want to get even. To get even, Even Steven. I would have to kill you, go into Alfor's room, kill him, then wait for your old man, Dr. Bell, to come home and kill him. That would make us even. No, my unborn daughter will just hafta be satisfied with your death at her mother's hands."

Allura knew no matter what else could be said, blood will spill.

"When do we do this?"

"It all depends... When do you want to die? Tomorrow? The day after tomorrow? That's about as long as I'll wait."

"How 'bout tonight, bitch?

"Splendid. Where?'

"There's a baseball diamond where our little league has its games, about a mile from here. We meet there around two-thirty in the morning, dressed all in black, and we have us a knife fight, we won't be bothered. I have to fix Alfor's cereal."

As they continued to talk, Allura pulled down a cereal bowl for her son and laid it on the kitchen counter.

"Shiro said you were one of the best ladies he'd ever seen with an edged weapon." The boy commented.

Allura moved to another kitchen cabinet, and pulled down a box of the sugar cereal, 'Kaboom'.

"Fuck you, bitch, I know he didn't qualify it, so you can just kiss my motherfuckin ass, Black Mamba," She snorted to herself, "Black Mamba, I shoulda been motherfuckin Black Mamba."

As the two continued to talk, Allura reached her hand inside the cereal box.

"Weapon of choice? And if you want to stick with your butcher knife, I'm cool with that." The boy said, leaning back in his chair.

"Very funny." Allura swung around.

Allura fired a gun from inside the cereal box at the boy.

The bullet exploded out of the cardboard box, and hit the coffee mug directly in front of the Cuban, blowing it to smithereens. The boy threw himself onto the floor. Allura pulled the gun out of the cereal box and fired again. The bullet hit the floor of the tiny kitchen.

The Cuban moved under the kitchen table, then using his back, lifted the table off the ground, rammed it straight into Allura, pinning her flat up against the table top, and the kitchen counter. While his left hand held the table, his right hand went to the SOG on his belt, his fingers wrapped around the blade's grip, lifting it up out of the sheath and plunging it through the table top up to the handle, with all the knife's steel entering Allura's abdomen. The table fell back to the floor with the dying homemaker pinned to it. The two former colleagues met eyes.

"Sorry, bout the bushwhack. Please don't..." Allura trailed off, looking at the boy with tear filled eyes.

"Do to your child, what you did to mine..." he took her hand, "...I won't."

Allura slumped over, her eyes glazed with death.

The boy removed his knife, looked up and saw little Alfor standing in the doorway of his room. The little boy saw his mother dead on the floor, lying in her own blood. And he seen the brunette boy standing over his mother, bloody knife still in his hand. But oddly enough, Alfor didn't cry. The little boy locked eyes with the big boy, and held his stare.

As he talked to the little boy, he removed an already stained with blood white handkerchief with the name "SHIRO" sewn on it. And the Cuban wiped the boy's mother's blood off his blade.

"It was not my intention to do this in front of you. For that I'm sorry. But you can take my word for it, your mother had it coming. When you grow up, if you still feel raw about it, I'll be waiting."

And with that apology, statement, and invitation, the Cuban walked out the kitchen side door, leaving the little boy to his mourning.

* * *

The boy walked down the dead woman's driveway to his vehicle. He glanced at the lawn toys one more time as he made his getaway. He climbed into his big, yellow pickup truck, with the words "Pussy Wagon" written across the flatbed's hatch door in a pimpy font.

He took out a ringed notebook and turned to a page that's headline reads;

 **DEATH LIST FIVE**

On the pager were five names numbered going down the page written in red ink. The first name had a line drawn through it with black ink. The second name on the list was;

 **ALLURA ALTEA**

 **AZEMIOPINAE**

The boy took a black felt pen and drew a line through Allura's name, turned on the truck's engine, and drove out of the residential district.

* * *

Allura's snake - wikipedia/commons/8/89/Azemiops_  
Fight scene clip - /pych_H351zI


	2. The Comatose Boy

Warning:  
Offensive, racist, and transphobic insults in this chapter.

* * *

 **Five years and four months earlier**

 **The city of EL PASO, TEXAS**

The scene in which the police crew walked into seemed straight out of a movie. A total of nine bodies laid scattered on the floor of the bloody chapel, eight of the them surrounded the bride in the middle. Her white wedding dress was dirty and stained with blood, whether it was her own or from those around, it was hard to tell. The swelling stomach showing her obvious pregnancy, blood seeped out the side of her head making her short brown hair red and damp. Her face was bruised and still bloody, but most of it seemed to have been wiped off.

The sheriff drove his cruiser down the road towards Two Pines Chapel, where he was told of the gruesome massacre that had transpired. As he got closer, he slowly turned down the music of Charlie Feathers and pulled to a stop as his deputy stumbled out the church, clutching his stomach tightly and losing his lunch all over the road. The sheriff sighed and rolled down his window.

"Well, give me the gory details...son number one."

"It's a goddamn massacre pop." the deputy mumbled out, spitting the remaining vomit out his mouth.

The sheriff closed his eyes tightly and opened the door, getting out.

"He wiped out the whole wedding party _execution_ style."

The two police men started to walk towards the chapel, "Give me a figure."

"Nine dead bodies, and we're talkin' the whole shebang. Bride, Groom, the reverend, the reverend's wife...hell they even shot that old colored fellow who plays the organ."

"Appears to me someone objected to the union and wasn't able to hold their peace." The sheriff stated, looking at deputy who's face was getting green with each step towards the bloodbath inside.

Once in the doorway, the sheriff and deputy stared at the scene in front of them.

"Good God in Heaven..."

They walked in slowly, the sheriff taking in the sight of the massacre, the poor deputy had to swallow more vomit as they walked around.

"What'd I tell you Pop, it's like a goddamn Niagara Death Squad."

"You hush your trap with that foul language boy, you're in the house of the Lord."

"Sorry Pop." the deputy flushed red in shame.

"Well it's definitely the work of professionals. I guessin' four maybe five, a hit squad."

"How can you tell?"

The sheriff stared at the corpses, "Well it's sure a steady hand that did this," he shook his head, "It sure a shit ain't no squirrely amature. This the work of a salty dog."

The two stepped around the bodies that were now outlined in white chalk.

"You tell by the cleanliness of the carcasses. As kill crazy as this all may be, the blood is all inside the line. If you was a moron you could almost admire it."

"But Pop-"

"I ain't saying I do boy."

The sheriff looked at the bloody bride with focused eyes, "Who's the bride?"

"Don't know, name on the marriage certificate is Alexander McClain. That's a fake. We've all just been callin' him The Bride on the account of the dress."

"It's a boy? But you can tell they're pregnant."

"He's one of them transgender folks Pop, born a woman and changed into a guy. I'm guessin' he got his tits taken off and got pregnant before getting his vagina out."

"Still, man had to be a mad dog to shoot a pregnant gal- er guy, in the head. Look at em', brown hair, big eyes, they're a blood-splattered angel."

The bloodied boy then spat out a wad of blood right into the sheriff's eye. He slowly reached up and wiped the bloody spit off his eye lid and spoke lowly.

"Son number one?"

"Yeah?"

"This talk drink of cocksucker ain't dead."

* * *

Laying in his hospital bed, eyes closed, the Cuban boy was at the beginning of his comatose journey.

He was in his hospital room, alone, and a massive rainstorm was just outside the window.

* * *

The rain was pouring down in buckets outside in front of the hospital when the wheel to an Alfa Romeo rolled up to the front and stopped. The car door opened and two yellow galoshes stepped out into the wet night. A red umbrella opened as rain fell down. The back of a head wore a yellow rain slicker hood, framed by the red umbrella above it, which water cascaded down and beat a rhythm against. The figure in the yellow rain slicker with the red umbrella started walking towards the hospital.

The hospital's electrical doors swooshed open. The woman in the raincoat walked from outside, into the hospital, down the hall and into the ladies room door. Once inside, the figure proceeded to strip out of it's clothes, proving them to be female, with short light brown hair in wavy curls, and a single black eye patch on her left eye. Her young face might deceive others into thinking she was a child, but the woman was no child. In one hand she held an empty syringe, the other was a vial filled with a murky red liquid. It was a lethal cocktail of Shiro's own concoction. He called it, 'Goodbye forever'.

The door marked 'ladies' opened, and a beautiful girl in a white nurse's uniform, with a matching white eye patch over her left eye, stepped out, carrying a tray with the "Goodbye forever"-filled syringe on it. She walked down the corridor towards the sleeping boy's room.

This was Kathryn "Katie" Holt. Member of The Deadly Viper Assassination Squad.

Codename: Bothriopsis Bilineata

Katie opened the door to the boy's room and stepped inside. The female assassin approached the comatose man, looked down at her sleeping target, victim, rival, and opposite number. The boy's eyes still closed shut. She stood over the boy's hospital bed, and said to him;

"I might never of liked you. Point in fact I despise you. But that doesn't suggest I don't respect you. You were a master of a profession that's most difficult to master. Dying in our sleep is a luxury our kind is rarely afforded. My gift to you."

As she lifted the syringe off the tray, Katie's cell phone suddenly started to ring. She cursed to herself as there could be only one person on the other end, she answered it quickly.

"Hello Shiro."

Somewhere far away, Shiro sat in his favorite rocking chair, completely covered in darkness. Gripping a black sword tightly.

" _What's his condition?_ "

"...Comatose."

His grip tightened.

" _...Where is he?_ "

"I'm standing over him right now."

Shiro relaxed, thumbing the handle slightly.

" _That's my girl._ " She chuckled softly.

There were a few minutes of silence, then.

" _Katie, you're going to abort the mission._ "

" **WHAT?!** "

Shiro leaned away slightly from the phone as the enraged assassin scream profanities at him.

" _We owe him better than that._ "

"OH YOU DON'T OWE HIM SHIT!" she continued angrily.

" _Would you keep your voice down._ "

"You don't owe him shit!" Katie hissed again, though much quieter.

" _May I say, one thing?_ " He asked, voice tight.

His hand gripped the sword again.

Katie waved her hand, "Speak."

" _...Y'all beat the hell out of that man, but you didn't kill him. And I put a bullet in his head, but his heart just kept on beating. Now you saw that yourself with your own beautiful, brown eye. Did you not?_ "

Katie paused, considering that.

" _We've done a lot of things to this boy, and if he ever wakes up...we'll do a whole lot more._ "

" _But one thing we won't do, is sneak into her room in the night..._ " he slowly pulled the blade out of the sword sheaf, the sharp blade glisten in the low light, " _...Like a filthy rat, and kill him in his sleep._ "

Katie sighed, crossing her arms tightly.

"But-"

" _And the reason we won't do that thing is because-_ " he slammed the sword back in sharply and loud enough for Katie to hear it over the phone, " _-THAT thing would lower us. Don't you agree Miss Holt?_ "

"...I guess." Katie grumbled.

" _Do you really have to guess?_ "

"...No, I don't really have to guess, I know." She strained each word out reluctantly.

" _Come on home honey._ "

"Affirmative."

" _I love you very much._ " Katie sighed.

"I love you too."

The female assassin put the phone away grumpily and looked down at the comatose boy. Even though his face was expressionless, he almost seemed to be smiling.

"Thought that was pretty funny didn't ya? Word of advice bitch, don't you ever wake up."

* * *

 **Five years later**

It was night time in the comatose boy's hospital room. Still laying completely still, the sound of a bug buzzing echoed throughout the room. A mosquito flew around in figure eights in search for fresh blood. The buzzing suddenly stopped as the bug had landed on the boy's forearm, its stinger dug into his flesh, visibly drawing blood from its host.

The mosquito continued to gorge itself on it's new meal when the boy's hand struck fast and squashed the bug flat. His fingers flicked the dead bug away. His eyes finally moving beneath the lids before they suddenly snapped open.

The boy sat straight upright in bed. He had no idea where he was when-

 _In the church again with a gun pointed down at his face, the barrel explodes lead at him- **BANG!**_

The boy let out a scream of pain and his hand goes to the side of his head, as if he were just shot. His hand felt the metal plate embedded in the side of his skull where the hole was. He knocked against it with his knuckle. The small _tink! tink!_ echoed. Suddenly he said out loud;

"My baby."

His hand went down to his belly, only to find it not swollen but flat. He didn't understand, he lifted up his hospital gown and saw a jagged scar that ran down his abdomen. His fingertips traced it. He quickly looked at the palm of his hand and counted the lines. They looked like a road map. He stopped counting, shocked.

"Five years." He counted again.

"Five years."

The Boy's eyes filled with tears as he realized his baby was long gone, then the sound of loud echoing footsteps made him gasp and stare at the door. The memory of black boots walking across the wood floor of the wedding chapel flashed in the boy's mind.

The sound of Shiro's voice overlapped the hospital orderly's,

" **He's right in here.** "

The boy decided the best course of action, till he got his bearings, was to play possum. He threw herself back down on the bed, just as two men entered his room. They saw just what they expected to see, the boy laying in his bed in his coma. He duplicated his comatose face, eyes closed. Except knowing he's awake, and hears everything around him, created a slightly different effect. The Bride, however, while he heard the truck driver for what he was, when he heard the orderly speak he could only hear Shiro's voice. The orderly took The Bride's sheet covering off, and hitched up his hospital gown till his birth-given vagina was exposed. The orderly did kind of a 'TA-DA' presentation of his vagina.

" **Now is that the cutest little Spic pussy you ever saw, or is that the cutest little Spic pussy, YOU-EVA-SAW?** "

The man grunted, unimpressed.

"I've seen better."

The boy couldn't believe he was being exhibited in that manner. A look of chagrin crossed his trying-to-be-expressionless face.

"I've seen a fuck load better than you, Latrino." the man continued.

" **Yeah, in a movie - maybe. But I know damn well this is the best pussy you ever saw you had touchin' rights to. The thing about the tranny folks is that they always pay for the best possible body they want. Now the price is seventy five dollars a fuck man, you gittin' your freak on or what?** "

The trucker grumbled and the sound of money being exchanged quickly filtered through. As the orderly counted the trucker's money, he laid out the rules.

" **Here's the rules; Rule number one; no punchin 'im. Nurse comes in tomorrow an he got 'im a shiner - or less some teeth, jig's up. So no knuckle sandwiches under no circumstances. And by the way, this little fucker's a spitter - it's a motor reflex thing but spit or not, no punchin. Now are we absolutely positively clear about rule number one?** "

"Yeah."

" **Rule number two; No monkey bites, no hickeys - in fact no leavin no marks of no kind. But after that, it's allll goooood. His plummin down there don't work no more, so feel free to cum in 'im all ya wont. Keep the noise down - try not to make a mess, and I'll be back in twenty.** "

The orderly turned to leave, then remembered something, and turned back. He took out the most disgusting jar of vaseline in the history of the word, and handed it to the man.

" **Oh by the way, not all the time, but sometimes this guy's cunt can get drier than a bucket of sand. If he's dry, lube up with this and you'll be good to go. BON-APPETIT, dude.** " And with that, the orderly was gone.

As soon as he left, the trucker started to giggle. The man began to unbuckle the belt that laid beneath his belly. While he looked down to accomplish that, the boy's face twitched.

"The fuck?" he starred at the boy for a few more seconds before shrugging and dropped his Levi's to his ankles.

The man then climbed up on the bed and began to mount the boy. Who suddenly sprung to life, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, yanked him down towards him, and plunged the I.V. needle in his arm deep into the man's temple, then twisted it around and around, turning the right side of his brain into scrambled eggs.

He tossed the now brain-dead trucker to the floor.

This Boy upon waking, without leaving the bed where he laid in the last five years, had just killed a man. He threw off the bloody blankets, whipped his legs off the side of the bed, and tried to stand - then quickly fell with a small crash flat on the floor. His legs and feet wouldn't work. Which meant he was stuck on the floor with only a functioning top half, and a completely useless bottom half.

* * *

The elevator doors opened, and the orderly stepped out.

* * *

He heard the sound of Shiro's boots approaching the room

 ** _STEP...STEP...STEP..._**

He saw the trucker had a Trucker's knife in a holster attached to his belt. His hands removed it.

* * *

The Orderly swaggered down the hall to the boy's room, red Reeboks slapped against the smooth floor.

* * *

He snapped the knife's blade open.

* * *

The Orderly pushed open the boy's door, and stopped in shock. He saw an empty bed with bloodstains on it, one dead trucker on the floor, and no boy.

" ** _Oh shit!_** "

Then in almost slow motion, as he freaked out...past his shirt, pants, Reeboks, then on the floor curled up low next to the doorway, behind his ankles, knife ready. The Boy laid in wait. As The Orderly stepped into the room, the boy reached out and slashed both of his Achilles tendons.

The Orderly let out a loud 'YELP!' and crashed to the floor, hitting face first. He was stunned.

The boy, confined to the floor, crawled over and dragged the stunned man across the floor, placed his melon head between the door and the door frame. Then taking the door in his right hand.

 _ **SLAM!**_

 _ **SLAM!**_

 _ **SLAM!**_

Slammed his head three time between the door and the door frame. The orderly laid on the floor in a strange state of consciousness. He was in both excruciating pain, and quite sure he'd lost his mind, since at that moment he was laying on the floor looking up at the Comatose Boy asking him questions.

"Where's Shiro?"

"Who?" He asked, hurt and confused.

 _ **SLAM!**_

He screamed.

"Shiro! Where's Shiro!"

"I dunno no Shiro."

 ** _SLAM!_**

"I heard him here myself."

 _ **SLAM!**_

"Now are you gonna tell me where he is, or do I beat your fuckin brains in!?"

 _ **SLAM!**_

"Please please stop, don't hit me again!"

" .Shiro."

 _ **SLAM!**_

Then the boy looked down and saw two tattoos on the orderly's hand - one spelling 'B.U.C.K.' on each finger of his left hand. And another spelling 'F.U.C.K.' on the fingers of his right. The boy seemed to look inside his own mind.

 _Buck entered his room that first night, five years ago, he was holding in his hand one of those big flashlights you used in a tent when camping. It gave off a soft blue light. Buck examined the boy through the blue._

 _"Well, ain't you the slice of cutie pie they all said you wuz, even if you're a little freaky. Well sweetheart, I'm from Longview, Texas, my name's Buck, and I'm here to fuck."_

 _He began to unbuckle his belt._

The boy slowly looked down at Buck with dark eyes.

"Your name's Buck, _right_? And you came to fuck, _right_?"

Buck looked at the him with pure horror.

The boy stared at him with pure rage...and with the door in his hand and one mighty slam, the Longview, Texas orderly was dead.

He searched through the dead man's pockets, coming up with a raggedy brown wallet filled with money. He also pulled out a set of car keys on a pickup truck key chain that had the words, **'Pussy Wagon'** on it written in a pimpy font. He gathered up the items, and the trucker's knife, then began to strip Buck of his orderly uniform.

* * *

The elevator doors to the hospital's underground parking lot opened, revealing the boy in Buck's orderly scrubs in a wheelchair. He wheels out of the elevator fast into the parking lot. His arms spinning the wheels as he goes down the line of cars, looking for a pickup truck that Buck would own...he stopped.

What made him stop?

The backside of a big, yellow 4x4 hard-body pickup truck, with flames painted along the side, and the words, **'PUSSY WAGON'** , written along the flat-bed hatch door. Pimpy font. The boy looked at Buck's key chain in his hand, the key opened the truck.

The boy pulled himself up into the backseat of Buck's pickup truck. Once in the backseat, he shoved the wheelchair away. It rolled out of control, down the parking ramp, and crashed. Now the Cuban laid vertically in Buck's truck's backseat. Seemingly out of danger - or at least out of sight - but he was still stuck hiding in the hospital. And until he regained full use of his legs and feet, he wasn't going anywhere. Laying flat, with the back of his head propped up against the door, his long, lifeless legs stretched out in front of him, his two bare feet at the end of them, pointing to the sky, the Cuban focused his eyes, his stare, his thoughts, his strength, and all his concentration...on his big toe.

"Wiggle your big toe." He said in monotone.

The toe didn't move an inch.

"Wiggle your big toe." Still nothing.

"Wiggle your big toe."

As he laid in the back of Buck's pickup truck, trying to will his limbs out of entropy, the boy could see the faces of the people who had done this to him, and the man responsible. Members all of Shiro's brainchildren; 'The Deadly Viper Assassination Squad'.

* * *

 **THE DEADLY VIPER**

 **ASSASSINATION SQUAD**

* * *

***** **CLASSIFIED** *****

as

 **BLACK MAMBA**

* * *

 **KEITH KOGANE-SHIROGANE**

as

 **ATHERIS SQUAMIGERA**

* * *

 **ALLURA ALTEA**

as

 **AZEMIOPINAE**

* * *

 **HUNK GARRET**

as

 **CERASTES**

* * *

 **KATHRYN "KATIE" HOLT**

as

 **BOTHRIOPSIS BILINEATA**

* * *

Now after five years of being asleep, the Cuban knew absolutely nothing about his enemies' strengths, weakness, or whereabouts. But as fated by God vengeance would have it, he who knew nothing - knew one thing. If Keith Kogane, the first name on his Death List, was still alive he'd live in Japan. Keith Kogane, made his first acquaintance with death at the age of eleven.

It was at that age, a half-Korean, half-Japanese American Army brat witnessed the murder of his Master Sergeant father. And the rape, then murder of his mother at the hands of Japan's most ruthless Yakuza boss, Boss Zarkon. He swore revenge...luckily for him, Boss Zarkon was a pedophile.

Not long after his success of killing Zarkon and become a top assassin, Keith met Shiro. The man decided to make the teen his family and had basically adopted the boy as his brother.

At thirteen, he got his revenge.

At twenty, he was one of the top male assassins in the world.

At twenty-three he joined Shiro's Family and Deadly Vipers...

At twenty five he did his part in the killing of eight innocent people, including the boy's unborn daughter, in a small wedding chapel in El Paso Texas.

But on that day, five years ago, he made one big mistake...

...he should of killed nine.

* * *

"Wiggle your big toe."

He watched as his left big toe slightly twitched, he smiled.

"Hard part's over. Now let's get these other piggies wiggling."

* * *

Pidge's Snake: wikipedia/commons/2/2f/Cobra-papagaio_-_Bothrops_bilineatus_-_Ilh%C3%A9us_-_

Keith's Snake: .

Hunk's Snake: wikipedia/commons/c/c9/Hornviper_Cerastes_

* * *

O-Ren Ishii (Keith)'s backstory scene -

(pt. 1) /iddxqWhY5LQ

(pt. 2) /NsGsyS0UfCs


	3. The Man From Okinawa

I rewrote the beginning of chapter two, so you should reread it before this chapter.

Sorry for all the foreign language but he's in Japan, so whatever you know.

Most of the words are from the movie and credit goes to Quentin Tarantino, i used google translate to turn it to Japanese. So if it turns out wrong, it's google's fault.

* * *

 **The Island of Okinawa, Japan**

The entrance to a tiny sushi bar was covered by a Japanese curtain. The fabric was moved aside, and the boy entered the tiny establishment. The little fish and sake bar was the definition of the word cozy. Besides the boy, the only other person inside is the sushi chef, who smiled at him behind the midget bar. The Japanese man in his mid-fifties greeted the tall, brunette Cuban boy with a grunt and laid down the newspaper he was reading to serve the Cuban.

"Mexican?"

"Almost, Cuban. But I just came from America."

"Ah, America. Welcome, my English, a bit rusty."

The boy smiled at that and walked further inside. He didn't come across as one of the world's deadliest assassins, but instead as a sweet, slightly air headed, American tourist.

"Domo."

The sushi chef looked at him in slight surprise, "Oh, you speak Japanese?"

"Not really, just a few words I learned since yesterday. - May I sit at the bar?"

"Sure - sit. What other words did you learn, excuse me-"

The sushi chef shouted in Japanese, to someone working in the backroom of the bar. The boy thought the restaurant was so small, it was hard to imagine there could be a back room to it. Before getting a response from whoever it was he was yelling to a moment ago, the sushi chef turned back to the Cuban.

"-What other Japanese you learn?"

The Cuban put on a thinking face.

"Oh...let's see...'Arigato.'"

"'Arigato'...very good."

"...'Ah-So'."

"And you know what 'Ah-So' means?"

"I See."

"Very good."

The man shouted to the back again before taking out a few glasses and wiping them clean.

"You should learn Japanese very easy." the man joked, the boy chuckled slightly.

"No kidding, I heard it's kinda hard." the man hummed in thought.

A voiced shouted from the back in Japanese, the Cuban watched as a young Japanese man with a grumpy attitude, came out from the back room. He headed for the tall Cuban asking in a grumbly voice in Japanese,

"彼は何を飲みたいですか？" **(What's he want to drink?)**

The Cuban cocked his head to the side in confusion, "I beg your pardon?"

The young man rolled his eyes and pantomimed knocking back a drink.

"Drink?" The sushi chef supplied.

"Oh yes, a bottle of warm sake."

In Japanese he ordered the warm sake, the young man disappeared. The boy looked around the bar with curiosity, glancing at the chef every now and then.

"First time in Japan?" the chef asked, picking up his newspaper but looking at the Cuban.

"Uh-huh."

"Really?"

"Yep, this is my first time here."

The man looked down at his newspaper and flipped the page.

"What brings you to Okinawa?"

"I came to see a man."

"You have friend live in Okinawa?"

"Not quite."

He looked at the Cuban before shrugging and getting up to sharpen some of his butcher knives.

"No friends?"

"I've never met him."

The sushi chef continued to slice, not looking up when he asked,

"Who is he, may I ask?"

"Marmora Kolivan."

The chef froze, and the sound of glass breaking echoed through the dead silent bar. The chef slowly looked up with wide eyes to find the Cuban boy staring him directly in the face, his expression and body language now deadly serious.

"あなたはマルモラ・コリバンで何をしたいですか？" He asked, now in full Japanese. **(What do you want with Marmora Kolivan?)**

"私は欲しい マルモラン 鋼。" The boy answered. **(I need Marmoran steel.)**

"なぜあなたは必要なのですか マルモラン 鋼？" **(Why do you need Marmoran steel?)**

" 私は殺すために害虫を持っています。" **(I have pests [rats] to kill.)**

The sushi chef stared at the Cuban and sighed heavily.

"You must have big rats, you need Marmora Kolivan's steel."

The boy leaned in close, and said in a deadpanned voice.

"Huge."

* * *

A trap door in the floor opened up, and Kolivan, the sushi chef, climbed inside the room, followed by the boy.

The room had many handcrafted samurai swords in hand-carved wooden sheaths resting on wooden racks running the length of the second half of the attic. The boy walked down the row of Japanese steel, looking and touching the shiny wood. He looked behind him to Marmora who was still by the trap door, and said;

"May I?"

"You may."

He started reaching for one when-

"Wait, try the second one down in the sixth row on your left."

He found it lying sleeping in its shiny, black sheath. His hand lifted it from the rack. He unsheathed the steel, partially, then with great flourish, completely. Kolivan's mouth formed a small smirk.

"Funny, you like samurai swords..."

He pulls a baseball out of his pocket.

"...I like baseball."

Then suddenly, he threw the baseball hard, right at the Cuban's head. Quick as a whip, he sliced the ball in half, in mid air. The two perfectly cut baseball pieces, hit the floor. Kolivan gave him a slight nod, then crossed the attic towards him.

"私はあなたにこれらを見せたいと思っていましたが、あまりにも多くを知っているあなたのような誰かが確かに知っていなければ、私はもはや死の道具を作っていません。私は、彼らの悲劇的で感傷的な価値観のために、" **(I wanted to show you these...however someone as you, who knows so much must surely know, I no longer make instruments of death. I keep these here for their ascetic and sentimental value,)**

He took both sword and sheath from the Cuban.

"しかし、私は私の人生の仕事の誇りに思っています..." **(Yet proud tho I am of my life's work...)**

he closed them together, "私は引退しています。" **(I am retired.)**

"Then give me one of these." The Cuban stated, staring the sword maker down.

He placed the sword back in it's rightful spot, "These are not for sale."

The Cuban laughed darkly, "I didn't say, sell me. I said, give me."

Kolivan turned around sharply and glared at the boy, "And why should I be obliged to assist you in the extermination of your vermin?"

The Cuban's face turned dark and with a scowl said, "Because my vermin, is a former student of yours...and considering the _student_ , I'd say you had a rather **large** obligation."

Marmora Kolivan's face paled dramatically, and went to a dusty window. Sharply he wrote the name, 'SHIRO' on it with his finger. The brunette nodded his head yes. The proud warrior moved over to the door in the floor, throwing it open. He pointed to a corner.

"...あなたはそこで寝ることができます..." He started to descend down the stairs. **(...You can sleep there...)**

"...剣を作るのに1ヶ月かかります..." And before his head disappeared, he said; **(...it will take me a month to make the sword...)**

"...私はあなたがそれを練習するのに費やすことをお勧めします。" He closed the door behind him. **(...I suggest you spend it practicing.)**

The Cuban hummed slightly, then moved over to the window, took out a handkerchief, and wipes Shiro's name off.

* * *

 **"One month later"**

"私は28年前にもう一度やり直すことを誓ったことをやっている。私は「人を殺すもの」を作りました。その目的で私は成功しました。私は哲学的に私はあなたの目標に同情しているので、これをやった。"

 **(I'm done doing what I swore an oath to God 28 years ago to never do again. I've created, 'something that kills people.' And in that purpose I was a success. I've done this, because philosophically I'm sympathetic to your aim.)**

Laid before the two was the Marmora katana sword in its shiny, black wood sheath. At the base of the sheath, by the handle, Kolivan had carved the face of a fierce lioness.

"私は自我なしであなたと話すことができます、これは私の最高の剣です。あなたの旅で、あなたは神を見なければなりません、神は動かされます。復讐は決して直線ではありません。それは森林です。森のように、あなたの道を失うのは簡単です...私はあなたが来た場所を忘れるでしょう。コンパスとして機能するためには、ヤグー忍者の秘密の教義に戦闘哲学を採用しなければならない。そして今、私の茶色の髪の戦士が私の後に繰り返されます。" **(I can speak with you without ego, this is my best sword. On your journey, you must see God, God is moved. Revenge is never a straight line. It is a forest. Like the forest, it is easy to lose your way ... I will forget the place you came. In order to function as a compass, we must adopt fighting philosophy in the secret doctrine of the Yagoo Ninja. And now my brown hair warrior is repeated after me.)**

"戦闘に従事したとき、敵の征服は戦士の唯一の関心事になることができます..." The Bride repeated,

 **(When engaged in combat, the vanquishing of thine enemy can be the warrior's only concern...)**

"...これは戦闘の最初の枢機卿のルールです..."

 **(... This is the first Cardinal rule of battle ...)**

The Boy repeated again.

"...たとえそれが主の神、または仏自身であっても、あなたの道に立っている者を殺す..."

 **(...Kill whoever stands in thy way, even if that be Lord God, or Buddha himself...)**

"この真実は戦闘の芸術の中心にあります。一度それが習得されると...あなたは誰も恐れることはありません...悪魔自身があなたの道を邪魔するかもしれないと思った..."

 **(This truth lies at the heart of the art of combat. Once it is mastered... Thou shall fear no one... Thought the devil himself may bar thy way...)**

The Cuban repeated all, his eyes looked at the greatest maker of swords on earth and said;

"Domo."

Kolivan slowly presented the Marmora Sword to the boy.

His tan hand with his long fingers picked up the blade and took the beautiful, artful instrument of vengeance.

* * *

I wasn't sure how to do the first part with Kolivan asking his nationality, I hope I didn't offend anyone.

Don't try to put the word Marmora in anything being translated it's a pain in the ass and fucks everything up.

I hate not knowing how to have hover text to translate (-_-)"


End file.
